The Blind Guardian
by BluePhoenixRising15
Summary: Arina is Link's little sister, and unknown to her, she is also reborn, time and time again. In all of them, she is Link's guardian. After all, even heroes need support, physical and emotional. But because of an accident, she has spent the last few years of her life blind. How can a blind person be a sufficient guardian... when her brother is constantly trying to protect HER?


**AAAAAANGGGGSTTTTTT warning sorry not sorry.**

 **I reaaaaaalllllyyyy shouldn't be working on so many multi-chapter stories at the same time, but I just... can't help it. The cost of being in so many fandoms, guys. Hurk**

When you meet an arina, never let her go. ... An arina is the best you can have in life, don't play with her. She will forgive ... You will feel the true meaning of life again.

~Urban Dictionary

~*oOOo*~

 _But I'm only human  
_ _And I bleed when I fall down,  
_ _I'm only human  
_ _And I crash and I break down_

 _~*Christina Perri, "Human"*~_

* * *

Darkness overtook the land without a warning. It took indiscriminately, taking mothers going about their day, shopping, doing laundry, scolding their child (for the last time...?). It took fathers taking goods to the Hylian market, taking their turn watching the children, those on duty at the palace. It took the young boys training to be the best knights in the land, the others who worked learning their trade, helping their fathers cart their goods. It took the girls watching their younger siblings, working as servants in the palace.

And it took one headstrong girl who snuck into a hidden niche overlooking the training grounds, watching and learning from her brother, the best in the land. At least, she thought so. And in a way, she wasn't wrong. This girl who would be forever changed as her world fell apart. This girl who wanted to be a knight, but forbidden from doing so.

But enough of that for now. Now, we are on the eve of the day. We are focused on a boy, golden-haired, and strong, who will take a dare he should not have. A left-handed preteen, best of his class, perhaps a little headstrong and cocky because of this. We watch as he grasps the old, rusty sword, covered in ivy. He tugs, once, twice, and the old sword, like Excalibur for the prestigious King Arthur, slid from the rock, easy as can be, though countless others had tried and failed. He stares at the old sword, excitement dancing across his face as he realizes that the birthmark on the back of his left hand really meant something.

And the darkness came. The demons that had been trapped by the ancient sword burst out of their prison, the first thing on their collective minds to destroy the home of the descendants of those who had imprisoned them. The boy and his friends were swept up first, their cries of terror alerting those passing by the training grounds. But there was no time to evacuate, no time to get to safety. The dark wave poured through the whole of the city, grasping hungrily at any source of light it could reach.

The buildings were destroyed, crumbled into grains of sand. The pottery, weavings, furniture, anything that told the story of the people who lived there, gone. Destroyed.

As for the people... they were trapped. Tortured with images (sometimes more than images) of the demons who took their home, family, friends. And the worst part? They never saw another human being. Stuck in limbo, isolated for eternity, their worst nightmares playing over and over. Closing their eyes didn't help, the images would transfer to the back of their eyelids instead. Sleep was nonexistent, who needed it in limbo? And as far as they knew, this was their fate. To spend the rest of eternity in _here_.

Until one day. A golden-haired boy felt the pressure lessening, the darkness turned into blue, silver spots sparked into existence. He felt the darkness _heave,_ and it spat him out on the desert floor. It was the dead of night, he didn't realize that he was free for a good half an hour. He slowly uncurled himself, blue eyes peeking out of a crack between his arms. His eyes landed on a fallen slab of stone, so weathered and beaten it looked like another part of the desert landscape. But he knew it wasn't. That piece of stone, broken and cracked, was a part of his house. His fingers traced the carvings he helped put into it. Most of them were cracked off, some had claw marks struck through them.

He felt like he had been stabbed. Everything was gone. Everything. Every _one._

And it was all his fault. He was never going to see them again, they were _gone._ He was the one who had pulled out the sword, he had known about the demons trapped under it, he had been warned countless times, don't touch the sword, lest the darkness overtake us all. A moment of pride, of overtaking ego, had destroyed everything. _My fault. I killed them all._

He sat there for so long, head bowed, shoulders tensed. His legs fell asleep under him, his neck ached, his shoulders quivered. He cried, unashamed. He didn't care about the pains in his body, didn't he deserve this? It would have been easier if he was still in limbo. Sharing the fate of those he cursed. _Why?_ he wept. _Why me?_

Why did he have to be so prideful? So immature?

A gust of wind caught at the hood of his cloak, sweeping it up over his head. The wind tugged at his wrapped head, yanking him around. He fought to free himself, wrenching his cloak hood off his head. He froze, scrubbing his arm across his eyes. He picked himself up and ran, tripping and falling once as the pins and needles in his legs took their toll. He thought... maybe... unless it was the desert playing tricks on his eyes.

There was a blue, sandy bundle laying on the desert floor. He stumbled up next to it, hardly daring to hope. If... maybe...

Maybe he wasn't the only one.

He gently shook the bundle. A hood slipped a little, revealing a well-known face. She was breathing steadily as if she was sleeping. He shook her a little harder.

"Hey-" his voice cracked, most likely from disuse or the recent crying. He cleared his throat. "Hey," he said, clearer. "Wake up."

The girl moaned a little, cracking her eyes open. "Link?" she whispered. She pushed herself up. "What happened?"

The boy Link flinched. He felt tears welling up again, threatening to spill over. "I-" his voice broke. "I'm sorry-" He pulled his sister tight. "I'm... so..." he choked out. "Ari-"

She stiffened. "Link..." she whispered. "Link, what do you have to be sorry about?"

"It's my fault," he murmured. "I pulled out the sword."

"Link..."

"It is!" he burst out. "I shouldn't have taken that dare, but I did, I did, and now everything's gone!"

" _Link._ It's not your fault. And not everything is gone," she said, trying to smile through her own tears. She pulled him closer, hugging him tightly.

They stayed like that for a long time, sand swirling around the still forms. Finally, Link pulled away. "We need to move..." he looked around at the seemingly endless desert. He turned to Arina. "Pick a direction," he suggested.

Arina raised an eyebrow, but after a moment of hesitation, pointed straight ahead. "That way," she said confidently.

Link stared off into the distance, wondering about her confidence. Was it just a front? _Goddesses be with us,_ he prayed silently. He took a deep, steadying breath, then grabbed his sister's hand and trekked off in their chosen direction.

The sun began to rise, peeking out above the flat landscape, the sea of sand having a similar look to an actual sea. It was beautiful. Link took a moment to savor the fact that he got to see another sunrise, then instantly felt a pang of guilt about causing the destruction of his hometown all over again... Goddess, he was going to carry this for the rest of his life...

He glanced back at Arina, trying to gauge who tired she was. Nayru, he didn't want to push her too far, but they couldn't afford to waste any time with no food or water. Thankfully, Arina kept marching along, digging in her feet to keep herself from slipping too much. He nodded slightly and turned back, then frowned and turned back. Normally, she would have looked straight into his eyes with her own two-toned blue ones, give him a smile, and squeeze his hand to reassure him that she was okay.

Something was wrong. Or... maybe he was overthinking it? Was she mad at him? He sighed inwardly. Probably. He turned back and continued trudging on.

She stopped and tugged on his hand. "Link?" she asked tentatively. He stopped and glanced back once more.

"What's wrong?" He left the _besides pretty much everything_ unsaid.

"Is the sun up?" she asked.

Link blinked uncertainly. He glanced up at the sun, giving off just enough heat to take off the edge of the desert night chill. "Uh... yeah."

Arina looked like she was about to cry again. He wasn't afraid to admit it just then, he was on the verge of panicking again. "What?"

"I can't see."

Those three words shook him to his core. "W-wh..." He waved a hand in front of her face. There was no reaction.

"... Link?..." she stared up at him... three inches to the left of his face.

He silently pulled her into a hug as she started to cry silently. Link shivered. The darkness was a determined thing. It took indiscriminately, swallowing everything in its path.

He just didn't know how much it would take from him. Today and in the years to come.


End file.
